


Cafes and Dragons

by wilddragonflying



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, M/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-28
Updated: 2013-03-28
Packaged: 2017-12-06 19:25:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/739246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilddragonflying/pseuds/wilddragonflying
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thousands of years after Middle Earth ceased to be, after hobbits, dwarves, elves, and dragons passed from existence, souls still remain. And the souls of Thorin Oakenshield's Company have finally returned to the world. Gandalf and Smaug have returned as well, but Smaug is less of a nuisance now that he is deprived of his dragon's body. And Gandalf wants to reunite some old lovers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cafes and Dragons

**Author's Note:**

> So I finally succumbed to the temptation to write a Thilbo/Durincest Reincarnation fic.

Cafes and Dragons

 

Thomas stared out of the window of his office down at the small café across the street. He’d heard his employees all raving about it, but the life of the owner of one of Wellington’s most prosperous international companies did not make time for visits to little cafes.

 

Glancing back at his computer, he frowned and moved to go back to work on the spreadsheets. He’d had some new spreadsheets come in that required his attention. He’d just begun working when his nephews, Killian and Filip, threw his door open and bounded across the room, one on either side of his desk.

 

“C’mon, Uncle!” Killian shouted gleefully as he grabbed Thomas’s left arm and Filip grabbed their uncle’s right and bodily hauled him out of his office chair, which was no mean feat.

 

“What do you two think you’re doing?” he snarled, trying(and failing) to thrash his way out of their eel-like grips.

 

“You’ve been in this office for far too long,” Filip chirruped as he and his brother hauled Thomas out of the office and down the hall, past all of the other cubicles where the rest of his local employees were still busily working. He saw William, one of his oldest and most loyal employees, glance over and laugh when he saw Thomas being hauled down the aisle by his nephews. Thomas delivered a glare to the rest of the gaping employees—actually, most of them were more like family than just plain old employees—that promised extreme consequences if anyone made any mention of this.

 

His nephews were stronger than they looked, and soon had frog-marched Thomas to the elevator, Killian hitting the button for the ground floor with his elbow, neither relinquishing their hold on Thomas’s arm.

 

Glowering the whole way down, Thomas began plotting his retribution, though he knew that he would never carry it out; his sister could be worse than any fictional dragon when someone—even her brother—messed with her boys.

 

****  
  
William Robert Smith—or Bilbo, as everyone called him—was busy serving some customers when a commotion from the front of the café drew his attention. Glancing up, Bilbo raised an eyebrow as he saw Killian and Filip Durin—Fili and Kili, they insisted he call them—hauling their uncle, the infamous Thomas Durin or Durincorp, Ltd, bodily into his café. Smiling and waving over another waiter to serve the table he was currently at, Bilbo scurried to the front of the shop.

 

“Well, good afternoon,” he greeted. “Table for 3?”

 

“Hullo, Bilbo,” Killian said with a grin. “Yep, table for 3.”

 

“There’ll be an urn for 2 if you two ruddy mongrels don’t let go of me,” Thomas snarled, but Killian and Filip just smirked. Bilbo smiled uncertainly, a bit in awe of the man. Killian and Filip were imposing enough themselves until you got to know them, but Thomas… Well, the man practically _radiated_ power.

 

“Um, right, this way, please,” he said, weaving the shortest path possible to the nearest open table, which was in the front corner. He nodded to the table old Gary always occupied near the vent, his pipe in hand. The old man smiled, a knowing twinkle in his eyes that did nothing to calm Bilbo’s nerves. For goodness’s sake, he had an _extremely_ pissed off—and attractive, but get your mind off of that topic before you get in trouble, Bilbo—CEO being dragged through his café!

 

Before he could ask what they would like to order, Filip was rattling off their usual order and adding in some extra stuff for Thomas, presumably. Bilbo prided himself on his memory, and nodded, smiling automatically as he said, “Make yourselves at home, I’ll be right back with your drinks.” He headed back to the kitchen, emerging a moment later with Diet Coke for the boys and a Coors for Thomas. He brought their drinks over and then chatted with the two youngsters for a moment before going back to fetch the now-ready food.

 

After he’d deposited the food, Bilbo heard the bell tinkle over the door. Glancing up, he froze.

 

“Bilbo, is something the matter?” Filip asked, his expression concerned. Killian’s face mirrored his, and Thomas’s looked slightly confused, but watchful.

 

“Nothing,” Bilbo said in a small, unconvincing voice. Setting his shoulders, Bilbo walked over to the tall man who’d just walked through the doors. Sporting a head of finely-combed black hair that Bilbo would guess was curly if it wasn’t gelled back. “May I help you, Mr. Fyre?”

 

Smithian Fyre, the owner of the local bank, looked down at Bilbo, his eyes sharp as the knives in Bilbo’s kitchen. “I’ll need to speak with you in your office, Mr. Smith,” he said, his voice deep and rumbling.

 

“Of course,” Bilbo said, flushing slightly and leading the way. This couldn’t be good; a personal visit from the owner of the bank? When they were in Bilbo’s office, his door locked and the shade drawn, Bilbo turned to face Mr. Fyre, gesturing to the chair. Mr. Fyre remained standing. “What can I help you with?” Bilbo asked, praying that he wasn’t going to hear what he thought he was about to hear.

 

“You are late on your latest mortgage payment, Mr. Smith. I need the money soon, or else…” Mr. Fyre made no explicit threats, but it was easy enough to read in his silence. Bilbo swallowed nervously.

 

“I’ll have it for you by the end of the week, Mr. Fyre. I just haven’t had a chance, we’ve been busy this week, and… I’ll have it soon,” he promised, throttling down the rising panic in his chest. How the hell was he going to raise the money for the extraordinarily large mortgage his father had taken out on Bag End?

 

“I am sure you will,” Mr. Fyre said, his voice cool but his eyes sparking with malicious promise. Turning to leave, he let himself out of the office while Bilbo sank into the desk chair, burying his face in his hands.

 

A few moments later, there was a tentative rap on the door, and then two sets of footsteps made their way into the office. “Bilbo?” Killian’s voice asked, soft with concern. “What did the old dragon want?”

 

Bilbo looked up, his eyes bleak. “The mortgage payment. I don’t know… I don’t know how we’ll make it this month,” he said, his voice hiccupping slightly.

 

Filip came over and laid a comforting hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. “Bilbo, you know that we’re always—“

 

“No!” Bilbo snapped, shaking off Filip’s hand and standing up to glare at the two Durins, his fists on his hips. “I won’t take charity!”

 

“It’s not charity if we let you pay us back!” Killian protested. “Bilbo, you’ll lose Bag End if you don’t make the payment, and we don’t want to see that happen. You love Bag End.”

 

Bilbo glared at the two brothers for a moment before sighing and sinking back into his chair. “I know. But I won’t take your money. I’ll do this myself, or not at all,” he said firmly. “I will be beholden to no man.”

 

***  
  
Thomas watched his nephews curiously. They were nervous, shifting uneasily and constantly glancing towards the hall down which the waiter—Bilbo, was that why they’d called him?—and Mr. Fyre had disappeared down. When Mr. Fyre appeared without Bilbo, both boys waited until the older man had left the café before bolting from their chairs for what Thomas presumed was the office, not so much as glancing back at their uncle.

 

Thomas rolled his eyes and dug into his sandwich, raising an eyebrow in surprise. It was really good; maybe there was something behind all the amazing reviews. He heard a polite cough come from in front of him, and he glanced up, swallowing hastily. An older man in a grey suit with short hair and crinkling eyes was standing in front of his table. Standing up, Thomas extended his hand. “Thomas Durin,” he said, introducing himself.

 

“Garold Greyman,” the man said, shaking the proffered hand and then sitting down in Filip’s abandoned seat. “I’ve heard a great deal about you, Thomas Durin.”

 

“All good, I hope?” Thomas replied, feeling only vaguely discomfited. He felt like he should know this man, same as he felt like he should know Bilbo, though he’d never laid eyes on either of these men before today.

 

“Hm. Some good, yes. But also some bad. I remember—Well, I doubt you would.” Garold sat, gazing at Thomas studiously, and Thomas fought to keep from squirming.

 

“What do you think I don’t remember?” he inquired, partly to be polite, partly to satisfy his own curiosity.

 

“Have you ever heard of a place called Middle Earth?” Garold countered instead, his gaze suddenly sharpening.

 

“Isn’t that that place where that fellow—Tolkien, was that his name?—placed his books, that series about the ring that had to be destroyed?” Thomas ventured. What on earth did fantasy have to do with something he may or may not remember.

 

“Yes, but those are not the books I am interested in seeing if you recall. Do you know the prequel to those books?”

 

Thomas thought for a moment. “Isn’t it something called _The Hobbit_?” he asked finally, brow furrowed in confusion. He did not like being confused.

 

“Have you ever read it?” Garold asked, tilting his head slightly to one side as he took a puff of his pipe.

 

“I don’t believe I have,” Thomas said, his voice cooling. “Why do you ask?”

 

“Because I believe it will impact your life greatly.” The man produced a copy of the book seemingly from thin air, and handed it to Thomas, who took it gingerly. “Read it with an open mind. For you, particularly, I want you to focus on the character Thorin Oakenshield.”

 

“Gary! Are you harassing the poor man?” Bilbo appeared, Thomas’s nephews trailing behind, worried expressions on their faces.

 

Gary chuckled, standing up to give Bilbo an affectionate hug. “No, my dear Bilbo, merely suggesting a book that Thor—Thomas might like.”

 

Bilbo rolled his eyes as he laughed. “Not _The Hobbit_? I still haven’t read that book. Just because my nickname is the same as that main character’s doesn’t mean I should read it,” he chuckled. Turning to Thomas, Bilbo added, “I hope that you weren’t terribly put out by my sudden disappearance.”

 

“No, I wasn’t,” Thomas said, distracted. Had Gary almost called him “Thorin”?

 

“Ah, Filip, Killian, I have something for the two of you as well,” Gary said, producing two more copies of the same book he’d handed Thomas, and where on earth did the old geezer conceal them?

 

Filip and Killian laughed and each took a copy. “And what characters do you want us to look for?” Killian asked, a sparkle in his eye that spoke of fondness.

 

“For you, Killian, look at Kili’s character. And you, Filip, look at Fili.” Gary bid them all good day, walking out of the shop whistling a soft tune and swinging his cane merrily.

 

Thomas watched him go, and then turned to Bilbo, an inquisitive look on his face. “He’s always like that,” Bilbo said, chuckling slightly. “Why he’s fixated on us and that old book though, is beyond me. Well, myself I can understand: Apparently the main character is a ‘Bilbo Baggins’ of ‘Bag End,’ but I have no clue about the three of you.”

 

Thomas made a noncommittal noise. “Well, perhaps I will find time to read this,” he said slowly.

 

“I definitely will,” Killian announced, earning a shocked stare from the other three men. Glancing around, he protested, “What? I think it’d be great to see if I can spot whatever Gary thinks I have in common with this ‘Kili’ character!”

 

Thomas snorted. “If he’s anything like you, I don’t think I’ll want to read this book.” Killian laughed and flicked a fry at Thomas, who dodged it easily. Bilbo laughed and made his excuses, saying he had to go back to work. Thomas didn’t say anything as his nephews bid Bilbo a fond farewell.

 

But he did watch the man’s rear as he walked away.

 

It was very attractive.

 

***  
  
Smithian Fyre watched the three Durins leave Bag End shortly after he had. He remembered the gold he’d once stolen from the line of Durin, and the splendor he’d lived in before his death at the hands of Bard. He remembered the hobbit, as well, though it appeared neither the hobbit nor the dwarves were aware of their past selves. In all his years, Smaug had never before encountered any more people from the time of Middle Earth, but now he found he was living in the same town as the company and wizard that had ultimately brought about his death.

 

He supposed he should be bitter, perhaps vengeful, but he could not truly bring himself to care overly much about them, not when there were fortunes waiting to be made. His body may have changed through the ages, but his love of gold and other riches had not.

 

It would be interesting to see if, the next time he encountered the reincarnated hobbit, he bore the scent of Thorin Oakenshield the same as he had last time they’d met.

 

***  
  
The next few days, Thomas found himself going to Bag End for lunch every day. And every day, he always ended up with Bilbo as his server. He liked it, liked Bilbo, surprisingly enough. Bilbo always found time to chat with him about the company, Killian and Filip, and just general news. He actually made Thomas feel… human, like he wasn’t just someone’s employer, the man who cut the checks. Like he was actually a person.

 

When he overheard Filip and Killian discussing Bilbo’s money troubles, Thomas felt an overwhelming—and frankly confusing—urge to help. He figured the café owner wouldn’t want charity, but if he was paid… Grinning, Thomas quickly called William and his nephews into his office.

 

“You want to have an office party?” William repeated, slightly incredulous. “And you want Bag End to cater?”

 

Thomas nodded, purposefully ignoring the gleefully smug looks on his nephews’ faces. “Yes. They have good food, and it has recently occurred to me that we focus a lot on work here, and there’s not a whole lot of just… fun, I believe is the word I’m looking for, around here. It’s a workplace in every sense of the word, with no relief.”

 

Filip rubbed his hands together excitedly. “Can I go tell Bilbo?” he begged. “When is it? How much are we getting?”

 

“I was thinking we could have it tomorrow, and, well, I heard you talking about Bilbo’s mortgage payment… Do you know how much he owes?”

 

Filip and Killian exchanged meaningful glances, while William studied Thomas. If he didn’t know any better, William would swear that Thomas had a _crush_ on the café owner. “Yeah; if you want to give us a blank check, we’ll make it out, take it to Bilbo, and tell him what’s going on,” Killian said.

 

Thomas wanted to protest, to say that he would take the check to Bilbo, but he realized that he really didn’t know Bilbo all that well. He nodded, instead. “Very well.” He quickly signed and dated a blank check, then handed it to Filip. “Will, please take care of alerting the other people.” He waited until William had smiled and nodded before glancing back over to Killian, who was looking at Thomas speculatively.

 

After William left, Thomas raised an eyebrow and asked, “Is there something the matter, Killian?”

 

“No, Uncle, it’s just… Well, have you read that book Gary gave you?”

 

Thorin’s brow furrowed. “No, I have not had time. Why?”

 

“Because… Remember the character he told you to look for? Thorin Oakenshield? You’re an awful lot like him.” Killian hesitated, and then continued, “In fact, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were the same person.”

 

Before Thomas could think of a reply to that, Killian turned and left, Filip following him.

 

***  
  
Bilbo ran his hand through his hair agitatedly as he looked over the checkbook. He had almost enough for the mortgage payment, but he was still a few hundred short. He could use some more of the café’s funds, but then they would be short for buying their usual supplies, and—

 

“Bilbo!” Bilbo jumped like he’d been shot, his head snapping up and his eyes blown wide, and then he relaxed with a startled, sheepish laugh as he recognized Filip and Killian.

 

“Fili, Kili, what are you two doing here? Shouldn’t you be working?” he scolded lightly, but his grin belied the fact that he was happy to see them.

 

“No, Uncle Thomas sent us! He said that he’s gonna have an office party tomorrow—“ Filip began, but Killian, bouncing with more energy than a golden retriever puppy, cut him off.

 

“And he wants Bag End to cater!” Both Durins had humongous grins on their faces, and looked extremely excited for this.

 

To be truthful, so was Bilbo. This was just what he needed. “Excellent!” He excitedly planned out everything with the boys, and they stood in Bilbo’s office chatting for a moment before Killian brought up the subject of _The Hobbit_.

 

“You know, I was reading it, and I think Gandalf was right. You really are a lot like Bilbo.”

 

“Isn’t that what you told Uncle Thomas? That he was a lot like Thorin?” Filip asked, elbowing Killian in the ribs. Killian glared at his older sibling, but addressed his answer to Bilbo.

 

“Yeah, I told him that, and it’s true. And me and blockhead, here, we’re like Fili and Kili, who just so happen to be Thorin’s nephews. And William’s like Balin, Thorin’s old friend. Dustin is Dwalin, Orville is Ori, Devin is Dori, Nick is Nori—and those three are brothers, too!—Bale, Barney, and Billy are Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur, and Oin and Gloin are Owen and Gage.”

 

Bilbo stared at Killian. “You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you.”

 

Killian nodded. “And the best part? Gary is Gandalf, the wizard, and Mr. Fyre is Smaug, the dragon!”

 

Bilbo laughed. “Well, maybe I’ll get around to reading that book this evening or maybe this weekend, and tell you what I think of it,” he said, still chuckling. Imagine things being as neat as Killian laid them out!

 

That night, Bilbo spotted the old paperback that Gary had handed him months ago laying on his coffee table. Picking it up and weighing it experimentally, he finally decided that it couldn’t hurt anything to read a few chapters. He settled into his favorite armchair, a cup of tea by his side, and started to read.

 

He didn’t stop until he’d finished the book, and by then it was two in the morning, and he was sitting in his chair, slack-jawed, his mind racing. He didn’t know a lot about Thomas, but the rest of the people that Killian had named all fit with the same characters that Killian had paired them with, including Bilbo. He truly was like the little burglar-hobbit in the book. He swallowed dryly, getting up to start pacing. _What on earth could this mean?_ he wondered. He jumped at a knock on his door. Who could be calling at this late hour?

 

“Gary,” he said, his voice half a sigh. Of course. “Come on in,” he invited.

 

He waited until Gary was seated in a chair before sitting in his own armchair. “This book you gave me,” he began. “It’s fiction, isn’t it?”

 

Gary studied him for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was deeper, more like Bilbo had imagined Gandalf’s to be. “I think you already know the answer to your question.”

 

“It’s not,” Bilbo whispered after several long moments. “It’s real. But who could have told him?”

 

“I did. I am Gandalf the White. I was Gandalf the Grey during the time of _The Hobbit_ , but during the time of _The Lord of the Rings_ , I became Gandalf the White.” Gary—Gandalf—began speaking, repeating the details of _The Hobbit_ , but in a way that made them seem all the more plausible, and that began dragging up long-forgotten memories, things Bilbo had only ever even seen the barest hints of in dreams.

 

Bilbo gasped, suddenly. He and Thorin—Oh gods! “Oh gods,” he repeated aloud, his voice dazed. “Thorin and I—“

 

“The reason Thorin was so upset at your ‘betrayal’ was because you two were lovers, yes,” Gandalf said gravely. “I cannot pretend to have not foreseen the development of a physical relationship between you two, not after seeing the way you two fit together so neatly. You and Thorin were soulmates.” Gandalf was silent, waiting for Bilbo to work through that, and arrive to another conclusion.

 

“If Thorin and I were soulmates, and I am Bilbo Baggins, of Bag End, and Thorin has also been… reincarnated, then…” Bilbo’s eyes widened. “Thomas Durin.” He sat back in his chair, grateful that he was already sitting; he didn’t think his knees could support him just now. “Thomas Durin is Thorin Oakenshield, and my soulmate.”

 

“Yes.” Gandalf studied Bilbo for a moment. “Bilbo, he does not remember. Killian has worked out who is who from the old company, but he does not truly believe it, not yet. I have not had a chance to visit him yet. I am waiting for Filip to believe his brother.”

 

“Killian and Filip, they’re Fili and Kili, aren’t they?” With that realization came the memory of what happened to all three Durins at the Battle of Five Armies. “They all died.”

 

Gandalf’s eyes were sad. “Yes, they did. That is why they have not been reincarnated until now.”

 

Bilbo thought for a moment. “But I… I went to the elves’ land. I should not have died.”

 

Gandalf smiled slightly. “Your soul was ready to be reunited with Thorin’s, and Thorin’s was ready to be reborn. A force like that cannot be stopped, even by the elves’ magic. Frodo still lives in their lands, though.”

 

Bilbo nodded, smiling slightly at the thought of his nephew. “It is a shame that he couldn’t meet Thorin, or Thomas… Oh Lord above, I’m catering Thomas’s party tomorrow! What on earth am I going to say?”

 

“Nothing,” Gandalf said solemnly. “Thomas must come to the conclusion of his true identity on his own, or else he will not truly believe it.”

 

Bilbo nodded, swallowing. “And when will you tell Fili and Kili?” Bilbo frowned, there was something about the two of them… “Oh good lord. They were…”

 

“Yes, they were lovers then. They are soulmates as well. Souls do not choose the bodies they are born into, they merely choose when they return.”

 

“So does that mean that—whenever they find out who they truly are—they will become lovers again?” Bilbo supposed that it wouldn’t be a bad thing; after all, it was not as if either of them could become pregnant from it, and if it made them happy, then who was he to argue?

 

“It is likely, yes,” Gandalf conceded. “But first they must believe the truth.”

 

“And Mr. Fyre. Is he Smaug? Does he remember who he is?”

 

Gandalf’s eyes hardened. “He is, and he does. And he knows that I remember who I am, and that I warned Tolkien about him. I do not believe, however, that Smaug will make the same mistake of going so… spectacularly aggressively after riches this time. He has taken a smarter, more subtle approach.”

 

“Banking,” Bilbo said, shaking his head. “No wonder he is so adamant about payments.”

 

Gandalf inclined his head. “He may have a human’s body, but he is still very much a dragon.”

 

“So what now? Are you going to try to get everyone else in the company to read the book?” Bilbo asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

 

“No. I have another plan in mind, something I would like your help with…” Gandalf’s grin was infectious, and as the old(extremely old) wizard explained his plan, Bilbo found himself grinning as well.

 

***  
  
The next day, at the office party, Bilbo looked to Gandalf after everyone was done eating, and nodded slightly. Gandalf started up the rhythm, and Barney—Bofur—was the first to pick up his knife and fork and begin tapping in time to Gandalf. The magic Gandalf was weaving through the air—producing music to match that of the long-ago unexpected gathering in the Shire—produced slightly slack-jawed looks on everyone’s faces, and slowly everyone moved to mimic the position’s they’d sat in.

 

When Barney began clashing his knife and fork against the person opposite’s, Bilbo took a deep breath, glanced at Gandalf, and said, “Can you please not do that? You’ll blunt them!”

 

“Oh, you hear that lads?” Barney’s grin was just like Bofur’s. “He says we’ll blunt the knives.”

 

Plates and bowls began flying through the air like they had long ago, and Killian sang, “ _Blunt the knives, bend the forks—_ “

 

“ _Smash the bottles and burn the corks,_ ” Filip continued.

 

“ _Chip the glasses and crack the plates!_

 _That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates!_ ”

 

Bilbo watched with bated breath as the other men went through the same routine they had the day they’d all invaded Bag End. He could feel the magic in the air working, even on him, sharpening and refining his memories. He could only hope it was having the same effect on everyone else.

 

“ _Cut the cloth and trail the fat,_

_Leave the bones on the bedroom mat!_

_Pour the mild on the pantry floor!_

_And splash the wine on every door!_

_Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl_

_And pound them up with a thumping pole!_

_And when you’ve finished, if they are whole,_

_Send them down the hall to roll!_

_Cause that’s what Bilbo Baggins hates!_ ”

 

Bilbo bit his lip; it was now or never. He slowly approached Killian—Kili—and gently laid a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Kili?” he asked softly, searching for a flash of the spirited dwarf in the human’s body.

 

Kili slowly lifted stunned eyes to Bilbo’s, and then his eyes widened. “Bilbo?” he whispered. Then he turned to his brother. “Fili?”

 

Filip slowly nodded. “Yes, brother, I—I remember. Erebor, the quest, Mirkwood, the trolls, everything.”

 

Bilbo moved out of the way as Kili moved back over to Fili. “Everything?” he whispered tentatively.

 

Fili’s gaze suddenly flickered hot and intense. “Everything,” he murmured, making it sound like a promise. Bilbo flushed and turned away to give the two reunited lovers some privacy.

 

All around the meeting room, dwarves were remembering themselves and their brothers. Bilbo couldn’t resist smiling. He froze, however, when a hand descended upon his shoulder. “Bilbo,” Thomas rumbled, but he wasn’t Thomas anymore; Bilbo could hear the commanding royal tone that was all Thorin.

 

Sucking in a deep breath for courage, Bilbo turned to face his king, his lover. “Thorin,” he said softly, half-apprehensive that perhaps all was not forgiven, not as Bilbo thought they had been after the Battle of Five Armies, before Thorin had—

 

Bilbo’s thoughts were cut off by the warm press of Thorin’s lips against his, a surprised sound escaping his throat. Thorin pulled back hastily, and Bilbo thought he saw a hint of indecision in the former dwarven king’s eyes. _Can’t have that,_ Bilbo thought right before reaching up and tugging Thorin’s head down, bringing him into another kiss.

 

After a few moments Bilbo became aware of the rest of the reincarnated dwarves snickering. He flushed as he pulled back, but Thorin chuckled and held him close. “I feared that I was not truly forgiven,” he whispered. “When I was in the halls of my ancestors, I feared that I would never see you again, that you would never remember me, even if we were fortunate enough to be brought back together.”

 

Bilbo shook his head, clinging to Thorin’s shoulders as he had so many other times on that forever-ago quest to retake Erebor. “I forgave you, Thorin,” he murmured. “And I wanted so badly to be with you again, but when I left with the elves, I believed we would never meet again.”

 

Thorin said nothing, only clung to Bilbo as tightly as Bilbo clung to him. They were together again, at last, and this time Thorin would not make the same mistakes he had before.


End file.
